


Five Minutes

by mandaree1



Category: Codename: Kids Next Door
Genre: Both of which are only in one chapter, But they work as separate entities, F/F, Fanny is fourteen, Gamer Fanny, Gen, KND TND and teen ninjas have merged, Mentions of losing limbs and blood, On The Run!Rachel, Post KND pre Stop the GKND, Rachel is sixteen, TND and KND have merged, Teens, Vague Allusions to Death, chapter 5
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-21
Updated: 2017-09-16
Packaged: 2018-08-23 17:29:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 17,178
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8336533
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mandaree1/pseuds/mandaree1
Summary: Fourteen year old Decommissioning officer and game guru Fanny Fulbright has been on a mission to locate the scientists who cried Splinter Cell and ultimately ruined Numbuh 362's good name. When a lead comes to her on a silver platter, she risks everything in a desperate gamble to matter again, and bites off more than she can chew.





	1. Play the Game

**Author's Note:**

> Post KND and pre-Stop the GKND. The TND and KND have merged, and the teenagers have made a rough peace under Abby's rule as Supreme Leader. Due to Fanny's age, however, she's considered an ineffective Head, and has willingly been demoted to normal soldier again.

"Yer doin' fine, lass. Just remember; x to jump, square to fire... or ya can die two seconds in. That's an option too."

There's a mutual groan from the rest of her team as the familiar kill-message pops up in the corner. Fanny makes a mental note to bomb RainbowMonkeysSuz25 later, adjusting her headset for good measure. She's tempted to take a sip of the half-empty root beer next to her desk, but the newest addition still needs to learn the basic steps, and a bathroom break is out of the question.

"Hush, you lot. Darcie's new ta' all this. Ya' good, hun?"

"I'm sorry." A quiet voice murmurs. The girl sounds barely old enough to make it into the KND recruitment programs as the average operative, let alone play co-op training simulation shooters. "I forgot to check behind me."

"Rookie mistake, dear. Try again."

Truthfully, it's the four soda cans on the floor that have given Fanny this level of patience. It's hardly even nine yet, but there's a long night of raids ahead, and she wants to be able to enjoy it, at least slightly.

"Decon, don't you have a test tomorrow?" Another girl asks. She sounds about twelve.

"I have a lotta things ta' do tomorrow." Fanny responds briskly, setting up a mustard grenade on the spawn point. She hates cheating, but the sooner the battle ends the sooner she can get up and grab some snacks. Dilute the soda a bit.

"Like a date with your _girl_ friend?" A third challenges. She's slurring a bit; too much soda. Fanny takes a quick glance at her name, preparing an airstrike to remind her of the respect she's rightfully earned.

"I ain't gotta girlfriend. Ya' know that."

She's playing with a group of operatives, unfortunately, and they've been taught to pick up on this sort of thing. Even the rookie seems to know her ticks, letting out a quiet "oooohhhh."

"You hesitated, Decon. You're lying."

"Ya'll know me, ladies. Can ya' imagine a lass who'd want to date me?" She forces the words out. Fanny is highly dateable, thank you very much.

A chat box pops up on the bottom of her screen. She was planning on waiting until ten to ten for it to appear, as it does every few months. This isn't the time it normally appears. That's never a good sign in a delicate situation like this.

_MadeAMistake is messaging you!_

She clicks open the bar. "Besides, I'm a very busy gal myself. You lot oughta realize that by now."

_9:15 P.M. MadeAMistake: don't reply  
_ _9:15 P.M. MadeAMistake: they'll hear ur keyboard_

"What about Numbuh 362?"

Fanny calmly aims and fires a smoke bomb into the deserted building, slipping inside to knife RainbowMonkeysSuz25 in the back. "What about 'er?"

"Ma'am? I died again."

"Yer gonna do that a lot. Ye better ge' used to it." She glanced down. No new messages. They must be listening in, the prats. "Numbuh 362 went MIA ages ago."

_9:19 P.M. MadeAMistake: thats a lie  
_ _9.19 P.M. MadeAMistake: ur lying_

Deeply unnerved, Fanny began to reload her weapon.

"I got one!"

There's a rumble of congratulations.

"Well, if anyone knows where she is, it's you." Numbuh 10- the only other senior operative who'd decided to join them- breaks in knowingly. Fanny wants to jump, but practice forces her body to be still. "Got a scoop?"

_9:20 P.M. MadeAMistake: keep lying_

"Info like that is fer the operatives who are on a need ta' know basis." She states. "And I don't need ta' know."

"Well, you're extremely gay for her. Does that count?"

"'Course not."

"How long does the match last?"

"Timers in the corner, dear."

"Oh."

To Zero with it. Fanny swallows down the last of her can of soda. She's no lightweight; five cans is nothing.

It's the girl who asked her about Numbuh 362 in the first place that speaks next. "Well, if you _did_ know how Rachel was, you'd tell us, right?"

"Shut yer mouth. Numbuh 362 may be gone, but that don't mean she don't deserve the respect of any other retired Supreme Leader." She answers. There's a pause, and she's fairly sure they're attempting to deconstruct her reply for hints. They won't find any.

"You always try to say Soopreme like a teen says it." One of them comments. "I think your accent is what fails it for you. Hey!"

Fanny calmly ducks her character behind a building to reload once again. "I taught ya everythin' you girls know. Don't test me."

There's a vague, curse-like mumble.

_9:37 P.M. MadeAMistake: i need ur help  
_ _9:37 P.M. MadeAMistake: ive been betrayed_

"Hey, Decon? Who's messaging you?"

Fanny scrolls the mouse across the screen to click the reply box. "Some'a my idjit soldiers."

_9:39 P.M. MadeAMistake: u have no soldiers  
_ _9:39 P.M. MadeAMistake: u were demoted  
_ _9:40 P.M. MadeAMistake: id never follow you_

"Why is it private?"

Fanny shrugged. She's stopped moving her character entirely, fighting to keep down rage. This is a game, in more than one aspect, and she must keep this impersonal. She downs another soda in a few gulps. "Because it's private info."

_9:41 P.M. MadeAMistake: reply  
_ _9:41 P.M. MadeAMistake; they'll get suspicious if u dont_

"Aw, come'on, Decon. We're playing, not working."

_9:43 P.M. ReconIsRecom: I'm guessing you don't really want my help then  
_ _9:43 P.M. ReconIsRecom: keep talking like that and we'll see where it gets you_

Fanny leaned back, listening to her twirly chair creak under even her slight weight. She picks up the controller. "I'm always workin', even when I'm playin'."

"That sucks."

"That's the life of a Decommissioning officer. Sorry 'bout that."

"Hey!"

"You were the only friendly of five in the buildin'. It was a necessary sacrifice."

_9:50 P.M. MadeAMistake: i wont apologize_   
_9:50 P.M. MadeAMistake: my remaining colleagues have betrayed me cause of you_

_9:51 P.M. ReconIsRecom: good. you've done nothing but spite me for months now._

"Pay attention, Decon."

Fanny lets out a growl as she watches herself fall from the killer's perspective."Darcie, how could ya? You were my student fer the night."

"Sorry, ma'am."

"Nah. Greater good."

This is the second or third raid after the messages began. Fanny immediately clicks into another.

"Be right back, girls." She stands and stretches, listening to the soda cans jangle as the office chairs move them. "Bathroom break."

A quick bathroom trip lets Fanny get a good glimpse at her bags and stress lines before she goes on her merry way, taking measured steps to make it last longer. She plays the waiting game quietly and without overthinking it, reluctantly grabbing a box of granola bars before returning. It's late, and no one knows she's up; they still don't as she slips back into her room. The Kids Next Door requires bedrooms be soundproof to keep private things the way they should be; private.

She falls back into the chair, rolls herself closer, and picks up the headset. "I'm back."

"I think I'm having a mid-life crisis."

"Bein' an operative'll do that to ya'."

"No, I mean; the pink camo is so obvious and tacky, but I hate all the other colors."

"Girl power. Pink."

"Haha. I knew you'd say that."

_9:53 P.M. MadeAMistake: wait no dont get up_   
_9:53 P.M. MadeAMistake: come back_

Works like a charm.

_9:58 P.M. ReconIsRecom: oh, so NOW you want to talk_

"I hear typing."

"Aye. My men are throwin' a hissy fit again."

"Come'on, Fanny. It's Friday night. You shouldn't be stressing over whether or not the others in your unit can figure out how to hold their shooters without you. Let's just game."

"Decommissionin' don't work like yer cushy jobs, girls." Fanny sighs dramatically, but her eyes are trained on the message box with a ferocity that bordered on obsession. "We could stumble on some traitor at any moment. There ain't no time ta' be idle."

_10:01 P.M. MadeAMistake: i know where some of them are_   
_10:01 P.M. MadeAMistake: the scientists_

Fanny feels her body tense and, against her will, start to hope again. It kindles in her chest; makes her feel ill. Hope has no place in a career like her's.

"You promised me one-on-one training." Darcie accuses, half-disappointed. The other half is split between irritation and confusion. "Not one-on-one training, addendum soldiers."

"Aye, darlin', and ye'll get it." She promises lukewarmly, moving her mouse to the box with shaking hands. "Jus' five more minutes."

_10:05 P.M. ReconIsRecom: give me proof, and then we can talk_

_10:10 P.M. MadeAMistake: give me an email address and u'll have it._


	2. Plastic is Better Than Diamonds

Fanny's obsession with the buffoons who cried Splinter Cell is hard to explain. She's long given up trying.

It was a desperate time, to put things nicely. She Decommissioned many operatives in a twisted form of witch hunt, each time hoping it was the last, that they'd stamped this all out in its infancy. Numerous operatives were injured or even maimed by suspicious teammates. Friends turned on each other. Numbuh 362's name was dragged through the mud.

When the truth came out- that it was all to watch a stupid _TV show_ \- it sent her blood boiling. It was such a spit on the face, you know? Not just to the Kids Next Door; to the innocents harmed in wild pursuits; to the Decommissioning officers shamed into early retirement for wrongful erasing; to the operatives who would never be able to trust again, as evidenced by the scars on their faces and the hair pulled from their skulls from unprompted tussles. And she wanted justice.

But maybe she would've overlooked it. Maybe. With a beating. If not for the fact it was linked to Nigel Uno disappearing off the face of the Earth.

(She means that literally. She had her boys check.)

Things went downhill from there, mostly in that Numbuh 362 went on the run. Patton, as well. At fourteen, all she had left was the occasional two hour visit with her girlfriend and the ladies she games with.

Maybe, with such high stakes, she should've dressed better, then. Maybe she should've gotten dressed at all, instead of wearing the same schlock from last night.

Fanny flicked stray bits of granola off her white tanktop, attempting to smooth out some of the wrinkles before giving up entirely. With sweat stains plaguing the pits, it was a wasted effort anyway. She slid her hands back into the pockets of her cargo pants, the rough brick digging into her freckled shoulders as she leaned against the wall of the Quick Mart. It was always a gamble if she'd show up or not, but Fanny considered the roll fairly high this particular moon.

She casually pushed some unclean hair out of her eyes. To the untrained person, she looked like she'd just crawled out of bed. In all actuality, she'd never crawled _in_ bed to crawl back out of it.

Fanny didn't know who Numbuh 362 was running from, or why. Rachel had never felt the need to gift her with that knowledge, and she'd never pressed the issue. With any luck- even if she couldn't bring her home- Fanny could at least finally give Rachel some closure on the incident.

Four years too little, and too late; it was all she could give.

Rachel eventually appears, seemingly out of thin air. She's wearing gray sweatpants, sneakers, and a thin black t-shirt with a light blue jacket, topped in a ball cap, and Fanny is so tired she wants to laugh because Numbuh 5 is Supreme Leader now and _guess what she wears, Rachel?_

Even in such drab clothing, designed specifically to avoid too many eyes, but also to draw just a few, as blending in like a shadow is a tip-off as well, Rachel looks entrancing. Powerful. You don't have to know her personally to know she's fought some battles.

As always when she first sees her, Fanny feels underqualified for the role of girlfriend. If things weren't so pressuring, if she weren't so lonely, there's very little doubt she would be back to being a distant friend.

That's fine. Fanny will cross that hurdle when it comes.

Normally, Rachel goes inside first, coming back around the aisles and letting Fanny catch up, but today she goes straight to her, wrapping an arm around her shoulders.

"You've been drinking." She hums.

Fanny lets herself be herded into the store, the comforting smell of cheap foods and frozen meats doing wonders for her tense form. She'd grown up in this place, with its grungy floors and dismal lighting.

"Game night with the girls yesturday. S'best to keep my nerves smooth fer it."

"Besides granola, what have you eaten since then?"

"Jus' the granola."

"Fanny, we've talked about this." Rachel sounds vaguely disgruntled as she directs Fanny toward the produce section.

Fanny smiles, eyes half-lidded in an effort to show her just how tired she is. "Aye, sir. We have."

"Don't call me sir. I'm not your superior officer anymore."

"That's true, but I can't exactly go off usin' yer name all willy-nilly." Fanny has the face of an unassuming customer as she glances at the security camera on the wall, but Rachel knows what she's getting at. She leisurely turns her head away; she'll only be able to do that one more time, preferably on the way out, without arousing suspicion.

"Fair enough. Call me by a pet name."

"Sir, I don't feel comfortable doin' that."

"As long as it's not 'babe', I don't mind."

Fanny bites her lip. Even after all this time, it didn't feel right to refer to her as anything less than formal. Still, this is _her_ request, and it's not overstepping her own personal boundaries, so there's no reason not to agree to it.

"Darlin'?"

"That'll do." Rachel blankly hefts an apple from the pile, checking it for bruises before tossing it at her. "Eat."

Fanny catches it without a thought, although she hopes it won't catch the attention of any security guards. "Thanks."

"What's on your mind?"

Fanny violently rips a chunk off the apple to stall. It'd be practically impossible to get away with lying to her, but that doesn't mean she can't simply just not tell her the whole truth.

"I'm headin' off a mission." She felt the heat of her scrawny thigh through the fabric of her left pocket. She uses it as a means to steady herself. It's not fair to get the girl's hopes up so early. If her skills should falter, it'll only cause more pain. "Gonna be gone fer a bit. Coupla weeks; maybe a month."

Numbuh 362 turns her eyes on her, mildly surprised. "That long?"

"Gotta be thorough." Fanny rubs her elbow, feeling pleasantly warm. "I'm in charge of the team. Don't wanna mess it up."

Fanny isn't stupid. Naive, perhaps, but she's faced time like every other operative. Faced Decommissioning far more than average.

Being a teen with memories of high-ranking information is a liability to the Kids Next Door. Yet nobody made a sound when she was kept on. She's perfectly aware that's because of Rachel- of their connection. It hurts to think her loyalty is downgraded in the face of who her girlfriend supposedly is. It's not even like they have definite facts or anything. Just hope.

That little tidbit will never change, and she knows it, but maybe she can change the tides of their opinion of her. Earn a little of her old respect back.

A gentle touch on her arm makes her jump. Rachel gives her an encouraging nod. "You won't mess it up. You're too stubborn for all that."

Says the woman who was a highly-regarded spy, then one of the greatest leaders in KND history. Fanny never intends to try and live up to that, but sometimes she wonders why Rachel risks everything to see her.

"This is a dangerous racket we got goin'." She says suddenly, but not for the first time. "I'd hate to be the reason you got hurt."

"Would you rather we didn't see each other at all?"

Fanny forces her shoulders to stay back and to keep her chin high, even with her hands sticky from juice and a half-munched apply dangling limply between her fingers. "If it means givin' ya a higher chance of safety, we'll jus' have to deal."

Rachel laughs and pats her shoulder. Their age difference is slim, but at this point glaring, and they were lucky to hold hands on a good visit. "Well, it's not like I'm in any _more_ danger doing this than I am anything else. Every time I breathe I'm threatened. If it weren't for how crazy your life is, I might feel bad for bringing you out." The darkness in Rachel's eyes is familiar to Fanny, and she doesn't flinch away from it like others might. She faced it every day, whether in her own gaze or in the operatives she brought in.

"And I like the company." She finished warmly. "I hate to cut this short, but you need sleep and food. _Real_ food. We can always catch up when you get back. I'll wait for you."

It's only been thirty minutes. That's gotta be a record. Still, she knows not to argue. The rest and nutrition comment could easily be a farce for something coming her way that she felt the urge to flee from.

The woman seems almost guilty as they stop in the space next to the cart corrals, politely moving out of the adults' way. Fanny forgets to say goodbye to the security camera.

"You know what? Here." Rachel crouches down, shoving a quarter into one of the bandit machines and turning the dial. Plucking the plastic ball from the slot, the ex-Supreme Leader triumphantly opened it and placed a small plastic ring in the palm of her hand. "Something to fiddle with when you get bored."

"I really shouldn't. I'm supposed ta' be as free to move as possible."

"This won't interfere. I wouldn't recommend it if it did."

Fanny exchanged a mutual farewell with Rachel and watched as she departed, clenching a hand tightly around the ring. As a teen, she knew she should hate those cheap things, but she found a deeper resonance with it than she ever would jewels. It meant a lot to a kid when a friend would forsake a gumball or sticky hand to give them something like this.

Fanny slipped it into her pocket, shuffled her sneakers, and finally walked away with a nonchalant stride, acting as though she had merely browsed the shelves out of boredom.

Despite Numbuh 5's warnings, she knew there was no turning back now.


	3. Fare Thee Well

Despite Numbuh 2's supposed toiling in the 2X4 technology department, it had been Fanny herself who had updated the D.O.H.-D.O.H. to fit a teenager's body type, gifting the chairs with a movable axis. They even fell back so one could sleep at night without getting a crick in their neck.

Fanny was rather lucky, in terms of size. Thin as a toothpick and barely cresting the head of that idiot Wally Beetles, who had, for some unholy reason, become Numbuh 5's second-in-command. Zero save them all from that boy, or at the very least bless them with a more graceful end. (At least _she_ had some grasp of common sense, for pete's sake)

Still others were forced to receive a size upgrade, which was a bit trickier. There were fewer teens in the Decommissioning unit than there are anywhere else, but the ones who were allowed to stay on had grown to have the size and prowess of a tree, and, for all her basic technological abilities from her time working as a medic, there's only so much she can accomplish without fear of knocking the whole thing apart.

Fanny had called in help from her gamer friends, most of whom were dreadfully bored builders themselves, to work through the wiring, turning buggys into mini-vans. Those particular D.O.H.-D.O.H.s were like rare Yipper cards; few, far between, and a tad lopsided.

Countless hours had been spent to get to this point. Fanny was incredibly proud of her work. Slipping on her last arm guard, she felt a level of confidence she hadn't prior. No scientist could ever hope to flee the fast stride of her machines once they were in sight. She slid on her helmet and gave it a pat.

Slipping out of the girl's dressing room, Fanny marched to the docking bay. The ship was moving through the air, ducking and dodging, but after so many years she navigated it with ease.

Eight D.O.H.-D.O.H.s lay stationary on the floor of the docking bay, waiting to be piloted. She had been pleasantly surprised when Numbuh 5 had assigned an extra team for her to work with, even if she was the only woman on said team. Her three soldiers saluted as she approached.

"It's an honor to work with you, ma'am." One greets shyly. He's a darker boy, with a youthful chubbiness to his cheeks. Probably the youngest here, but obviously incredibly talented. This wasn't a mission for rookies.

"I know." She replied. Fanny may no longer be what she used to be, but that doesn't erase her former glory. "Stand at attention, all of you! Numbuh 5'll be here soon."

Numbuh 5 arrives a little later, a hesitant look splashed across her features. Fanny is thankful to see she didn't bring Numbuh 4 with her. She did, however, have her godson strapped to her side, which wasn't necessarily surprising; it was well-known that Sectuh V had taken a renewed interested in the already beloved skunk's life after Nigel's disappearance.

"Numbuh 5, sir." She saluted. "And let's not forget Numbuh 6. Welcome!"

"Numbuh 2 and Numbuh 3 were busy." Numbuh 5 greets bluntly. "So Numbuh 5 ain't tryin' to make you seem less important by comin' down here like this."

"Never thought it fer a second, sir. It's an honor to accommodate yer child." Fanny refuses the urge to bite her lip. This is all the more reason to keep her head high. Bradley coos and swings his metal claw.

Numbuh 5 steps closer and lowers her voice. "You're _sure_ we can trust the source? Got a bad feelin' about this."

"Yes, sir."

"To what percent?"

"'Bout sixty-five, I'd say. We ain't findin' everyone they listed, but we're sure to find a few." Fanny raises her voice. "We'll make sure ta' find every traitor we can get our hands on, won't we lads?"

There's a scattering of cheers. The Decommissioning team has been waiting for the chance to reclaim the glory of their brothers and sisters, forced early into retirement, for years. Almost as long as she has.

Fanny tried not to feel too angry. She knew Numbuh 5 was just checking her bases as Supreme Leader, but the lack of trust is appalling. She may have her short temper, but this is something she's been playing towards for months now. All those late nights watching insults smear one corner of her screen have finally paid off, and she won't let anything ruin this.

"Alright." She agreed with little resistance, which made up for it slightly. "Numbuh 5 won't stop you. Just keep an eye on your supplies, okay? Don't be afraid to radio in early."

Fanny's teeth grind. "Yes, sir. Thank you, sir."

Numbuh 5 nods. "Dismissed. Have a good time."

They all stare after the Supreme Leader as she calmly leaves the room, feeling mildly humiliated- quite prideful, they are. Blood boiling, she noticed Bradley wave goodbye to her just before the door slides shut.

"Let's get movin'." She grunts finally, and they do.

* * *

Fanny feels the familiar weightlessness in her belly as the floor drops out beneath them. She chews on her mouth guard and keeps a firm grip on the controls as they fall, holding back any level of panic she might have felt. Long gone are the days she squealed as she plummeted.

They hit the ground, sending up a cloud of dust. The D.O.H.-D.O.H. buckles, shakes itself, then stands, laser cannons surveying the land. The ship's bay closes and the vehicle shoots away. Good riddance.

Fanny flicks a few switches on the side to open up the communications systems. "Birdies One, Two, Three, and Four- can you hear me?"

"Ma'am?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"Loud and clear."

"That was scary."

"Birdie Four?" She repeats.

"Sorry, ma'am. I hear you."

"Good." Fanny nods her agreement to Birdie Five, who gestures that he'll take his men around the side. "Remember to flip on yer air stabilizers. It's a bit toasty here."

Well, it _is_ the Sahara Desert, but you get her drift. Numbuh 86 listens as the others toggle their favorite settings, letting out a few curses along the way.

"Birdie Two, what do yer scanners say?"

"Nothing yet, ma'am. I'm set for water search."

"I know. We talked about this beforehand. Birdie Three, yer on the sky. Birdie Four, watch fer enemies on the rear."

It's late evening when they set out, and night when they stop. Birdie Three points out species of birds above while Birdie Four lets out a scream when a scorpion gets too close. They aren't in a big rush; this terrain is a sandbox Fanny tends to be fond of, and she knows every crack and crevice. It would take the scientists days to smuggle themselves out by foot in an attempt to avoid being caught on radar- days a D.O.H.-D.O.H. can easily make up for.

For now, they hunker down, turning off the engines but leaving the life sustaining equipment on. Fanny takes a sip from her water bottle and lets her chair lean back a bit. She grabs the backpack crammed by her left thigh, retrieving the laptop from inside.

Normally one doesn't have WiFi in the Sahara, but there's always the KND network, and Abby has graciously programmed a special private one just for the sake of the mission. Fanny plays with the plastic ring around her neck while she waits for it to connect. She refreshes her email when it does, tucking it away for safe keeping. The little chat box for contacts is lighting up.

_2:30 P.M. MadeAMistake: where r u_

Didn't even have the guts to give her a name when they made the account. Well, Fanny could play that game.

_11:30 P.M. YesYouDid: none of your business._

"Ma'am?"

Fanny flips on the private line. "Birdie Four?"

"I need a favor."

_11:32 P.M. MadeAMistake: u shouldnt be talking to me_

_11:33 P.M. YesYouDid: you don't run my life_   
_11:33 P.M. YesYouDid: I know you aren't here, but you better watch out_   
_11:34 P.M. YesYouDid: you're next._

"You do gaming, right?"

Fanny closed her laptop and set it on the floor. "I don't teach boys."

"I know, ma'am. I have a little sister who wants to learn; do you think you could help her?"

"Oh. Yeah. Sure."

"Thanks, ma'am. Goodnight."

Fanny rolled onto her side and tried to fall asleep. She needed her rest while she could get it.


	4. Fer a Boy

The taste of sweat is a familiar one as Fanny wipes her mouth quickly, returning her hands to the controls. She doesn't know if she's excited or terrified. The sun glares in her eyes, making it hard to deftly weave around the dunes, but she makes do.

She flips a switch on the side. "Birdie Five, take yer men and go around!"

Birdie Five salutes and herds them away, deaf and blind to their reaction. Birdie Three squawks unpleasantly in her ears.

"Ma'am! He's tapped into our communications system!"

"I noticed. I don't really care." She barked. "I want radio silence from now on, though." Fanny flips all of her com switches off, lowers her visor, and aims a blast at the ground in front of the getaway vehicle. It dodges with precision, forcing her to bite down on her lip and make the D.O.H.-D.O.H. jump to avoid the flames. The sudden flight has it bleeding when she touches sand.

Fanny eyes the little vehicle like a cat eyes a particularly complicated mouse. It's circular in design, and the entire outside is its' wheel, which tells her there's a little pocket in the center where the scientists are hiding. She doubts there's more than two inside. Its' silver color sends the sun into her face, but she'll go blind before she turns away.

Birdie Two and Birdie Three fire next, simultaneously craning their weapons towards the center. She doesn't know how, but there isn't a scratch on the stupid thing when they stop.

"Son of a _bitch_." She says, and hopes to Zero the idjit heard her.

She'd been nine, when her father pulled her aside and listed off all the curse words known to the average white American. She'd just gotten in a fight the other day, and had bitterly screamed, "Rainbow Monkey toes!"

"Fanny, honey." He'd said, gently taking her by the arm. "If you're going to scream obscenities, you're going to scream _real_ ones. Just don't say them around your brothers."

Bless the man. Fanny couldn't count the member of times slipping into adult-speak had unnerved operatives during a questioning. This is really no time to be reminiscing.

Birdies Five through Eight appeared on the horizon, charging side-by-side. The sphere began to switch directions to go around them. Good. She wanted them to take a detour.

Birdie Two, flanking her left side, takes to the air and boldly lands on top of the sphere, balancing with rapid flicks of the controls. For a second it swirls helplessly under their D.O.H.-D.O.H.'s clawed feet, but then a sudden jerk knocks him off, landing the machine on its' back a few yards behind. The sphere pelts into the distance, followed by the second team.

A D.O.H.-D.O.H. on its' back is like a turtle on his shell, and Fanny doesn't really have time for it. She zoomed past, watching from a rearview mirror as Birdie Two hops onto Birdie Three's vessel, the second having slowed down to collect the boy.

Fanny isn't totally aware of which Birdie is which on the other team- it's been two days since they've seen each other, and their only communication was a warning when Birdie Eight spotted the sphere- but she knows she'll have to report favorably on the brave soul who slammed down on the sphere in order to stall, then leapt to the side to keep pace next to it, putting their lives between enemy and the fire of friends, ramming on occasion to try and knock it off its' stride. At any second he could've failed, throwing him into a possibly deadly crash, but he never hesitated for a second. Decent job, for a boy.

Unfortunately, the sphere opens up a tiny compartment, displaying a missile launcher. The D.O.H.-D.O.H. explodes into tiny pieces, but not before the operative presses the escape button. Shaken, but most likely unharmed.

"What the fu-"

Fanny has only precious seconds to reassert her balance as something bodily rams into her, cutting her off mid-screech. If it had been the sphere it might've cut her off at the knee, but nay- it's one of her own men; Birdie Four, who had been quietly pacing behind.

For a brief, painful second, she honestly wonders if he's betrayed her. If he had, she'd leave him out in the Sahara with nothing but that crashed D.O.H.-D.O.H., unapologetic and unrepentant, but then something clatters onto the hood of her buggy.

A hand-held grappling hook.

She deliberately hangs back a bit to let him take over, thinking, _this had better work, or you'll have wished it did_. One by one Birdie Four bumps and throws, opening his body up to midday heat and thirst. Fanny admires the craftsmanship of the hook as she balances it on her buddy- they seem to be hand-made.

She slowly flicks up one of the switches, delight and satisfaction making her feel ready to take up a thousand chases by foot if she had to. "Birdie Five, if ya please."

"Understood." Birdie Five makes a signaling gesture with his hands, then shoots the D.O.H.-D.O.H. high in the air so it's like a small and rather sandy explosion when it lands before the sphere, which rapidly turns.

Fanny takes a sharp left, following close behind by her team. All of the machines, 2X4 and traitor, seemed to be heading for the same place.

An oasis.

Fanny goes around the side of the hill, rendering her unable to see the expert way they led the vehicle closer. Birdie Four settles in beside her, while Birdie Two and Three take the other, leaving a wide berth.

There's no time to brace herself. Fanny plucks open the top of her cabin, feeling the heat sear her skin. She elegantly leaps onto the neck, snatching the grapple hook on her way. Her hair feels frizzier than normal.

The sun is behind her now.

There's a loud crunching noise as the sphere crushes foliage, attempting to leap over the water and let the D.O.H.-D.O.H.s sink. Birdie Three fires, expertly wrapping around the circle and latching on. He quickly clips the machine to the D.O.H.-D.O.H. and ducks inside. The joints growl as he begins to pull backwards.

Fanny and the others fire next, and she's relieved to feel cool air on her skin again as she ducks inside. They pull in silence, lifting the sphere out of the water- the splashing is alien after so long of only sand- and into the air, helpless.

Fanny flicks the switches on. "Anyone hurt?"

"Whoever is in that stupid hunk 'o junk will be." Birdie Six growls. Numbers are implemented next to each of the flippers, which is the only reason she knows who's-who. They light up when sound comes through. "They wrecked my D.O.H.-D.O.H.!"

"Hold your position, Numbuh 86." Birdie Five asks, and she sees the top of his vehicle open. "We're going in."

"Understood. Birdie Four?"

"Yes, ma'am?"

"Nice job. Ya did good, as far as boys are concerned."

"Thank you, ma'am."

"But if ya _ever_ smack me like that again, yer dead, ya hear?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"Are you dissociating?"

"I think so, yes. Probably."

"Alright. Hold out jus' a little bit longer."

"I'll try, ma'am."

"Numbuh 86, you ever see anythin' like this?" Birdie Seven kicks the side of the metal sphere. "It's not anything I've ever seen any operative build."

"It _is_ pretty advanced. What's it made outta?"

"That's the thing; I can't tell. It's got the shine of aluminum, of all things, but that can't be it."

"D'ya see a door? Maybe a hatch?"

"No, but we'll make one."

Fanny puts her seat back. Remembering how thirsty she is, she opens up a water bottle and downs one-fourth of it in one go.

"Ma'am? It's not opening."

"Can ya scalp it fer weapons?" She examines the darkening skyline.

"Already have, ma'am."

"Then leave it. My boys and I'll take a crack. You can man the D.O.H.-D.O.H.s."

"Can't we rest first?" Birdie Two whines. "It's been a long day, and we all need rest."

"Only if ya wanna risk losing the first lead we've had in over three years." She slips her helmet, discarded from the jostling, back on. "We're going in. Make sure ta' dress appropriately."


	5. What is This- a Kid's Show?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mentions of blood and dismemberment, and vague allusions to death! Don't worry, though- this is the only 'Edgy' chapter, I swear.

Fun fact; when an operative calls out, swears by, or simply invokes the name of Zero, they aren't begging for a miracle. They don't mistake him for a God.

For the love of Rainbow Monkeys, she _knows_ the man. He lives in her _hometown_. It'd be backwards of her to see this bushy-eyebrowed adult as some sort of holy savior. No, no. It's a smidge darker than that.

The man deserves credit where it's due. God or adult, it's not nothing to be titled the operative who instigated the seventh coming of the KND. His work paved way for the first female operatives to be taken in; a sign that he realized how useless the cause was without womanpower. She holds decent respect toward him for that.

Zero was a great man, as far as men are concerned. Fanny really can't quite comprehend how he managed to bear such a disgrace for a son. Still. War is war, especially when it's being waged on an adult powerful enough to rule the world. Tired, starved, and untrained- never a good mix.

They say Zero would walk the battlefield and put friends left suffering to rest. They say he was the first operative to hand out root beers to the mortally wounded so they could die numb and fizzy. They say he would list off fallen friends after every battle and mourn them accordingly.

When a child prays to Zero, they aren't hoping to be saved from death or injury- they're asking for it to be quick and clean. This is the world they live in. This is the hopes of children forced to go play soldier. Fanny sometimes regrets agreeing to stay in circulation, simply because it means she'll never lose these memories, the ones the cause her to pray to survive.

She tells this little tidbit, not out of spite, or to scare the civilians, but so one might understand the shudder of pure _terror_ that slinks down her spine when she's awoken with a jerk to the words; " _Zero help me_."

There's propellers overhead. Fanny is so used to the sound it's practically a lullaby. She peers out the windshield, one hand on the latch. She knew she should've told Birdie Five to keep his men nearby while they slept, but there might have been more traitors around and she'd thought the night would pass quietly. The sphere remained unopened despite the attempts of their best explosives.

A shower of rubble is descending from above. A machine that looks like something from a superhero movie parodied is above, passively letting the stones fall from the hull.

That's when Fanny freezes down to her heart. There are so many, less barbaric ways to trap them. It's far past just cruelty. With no way of escaping, tethered to the sphere, it was an act of hatred and rage.

Her D.O.H.-D.O.H. shakes. One of the boys had tried to move away, tripping itself and the other vehicles. There was no time to unlatch and make a run for it. Reaching out of the D.O.H.-D.O.H. to do so would be suicide. At least they had the dignity to crush them all at once.

Fanny lets out a high-pitched, guttural cry. Her D.O.H.-D.O.H. gets slammed through the middle, and all goes black.

* * *

She drifts for a while. Her body throbs, and her foot is on fire. Fanny earnestly hopes she's dying, but she's not.

It's not that she has any interest in her own demise. As Head of Decommissioning she'd been forced to wrestle more than one blaster away from a pre-teen's head. That just wasn't the out for her. All that aside, being crushed- or, worse, suffocating- was far more terrifying to her than facing down even the most dangerous lair.

She wakes up flat on her back, metal twisted under and around in a sort of cocoon. The red laser light is blinking, almost completely detached from the boat. The remains of the buggy is probably what's underneath her, and the legs further down. The chair has been ripped out and now hangs upside down above her, backpack clinging to the left armrest.

There's medical supplies there. A breather mask. Maybe even a working communicator. Fanny stretches up slowly, taking her time to avoid wasting energy, only to find herself caught. She let out a quiet shriek of pain.

Her foot is trapped at the ankle, probably smashed.

Fanny realizes exactly what she has to do. As a soldier, she would sit and wait for help, then scramble out if none came. As a leader it was her job to _be_ that help. She didn't have time to feel sorry for herself.

Crouching awkwardly, Fanny dug her nails into the surrounding area, locating a suitably-sized rock. Her hands felt raw from pulling it up. She aimed, hesitated, then chucked the stone at her chair, bringing the entire fixture down.

She pushes the thing aside, grunting with effort. Fanny snatches up her bag and starts rummaging through it. First she latches on a S.M.E.L.L.M.E.T., praying that she hasn't inhaled too much dust, then retrieved a sturdy hunting knife she kept mostly for sawing off old knots.

Fanny is of the firm opinion that if the info you're telling wouldn't warrant being put in a report, it's not worth getting into in the first place, so she'll keep it brief. Once the appendage is removed, Fanny cauterizes it with the heat of a laser and sets to work digging her way to the surface.

She quickly finds a pocket of air. She presses her palms to the nearest stone, feeling the shift of earth. It was only natural it'd still be moving, seeing how haphazardly things were dropped. She tapped the surface. Something tapped back.

Fanny pulled herself out of the hole and drug herself deeper into the rubble. Her lip is bleeding. Finally, a figure makes itself known. It's too dark to see any details, but they move quickly and confidently. She feels a gentle touch to her elbow; a sign to follow. There's a blur of smoke to the air as he leads her to an almost perfectly round hole in a boulder. It's hard to tell if it was an accident or not, as the blast is slightly sloping.

He brings his hand up. She can decipher a hazy peace sign. Two people down there. Fanny tucks her left leg under her and slides down, trembling in silent pain as she lands on one foot. Nausea broils in her throat.

One of the boys is trapped by a strap of metal through the middle, presumably ripped from the D.O.H.-D.O.H. Fanny crawls over and takes her S.M.E.L.L.M.E.T. off, greeted by a variety of odors that make her want to hurl.

"Ya with us, lad?" She whispers harshly.

He turned his head and pressed it against her arm, eyes bright with pain. "I can't feel my spine."

"Yer numb, is all. Don't look down. Now, listen ta' me. We're gonna go get help. Yer wound is pressured, so ya won't bleed out. Do ya want someone to stay with you?"

"No." He moaned, digging his fingers in. His voice is more of a garble. "Take me with."

"Boy, I know you aren't thinkin' straight, but ya gotta realize how mad ya sound. You'll bleed out 'fore the sun rises." But Fanny saw the determination in his terrified eyes and felt her heart sink. He'd cut himself off at the middle if it meant just moving.

She secured her S.M.E.L.L.M.E.T. to him to avoid seeing more than he had to, then gestured to the silent operative. This would have to be quick, precise, and coordinated.

Again, details will be skipped. They helped him back up through the tunnel, clothes and gauze tightly wrapped around his belly, then met up with the other three, carefully edging their way to the surface with a laser. One of them urgently hands her a spare mask, which she puts on without a fight.

It's glaring out when they break through. Fanny decides it's best to wait in the shade, but the boy in her arms- Birdie Four, she realizes with a sickening jolt- struggles, and she reluctantly props them both up on a ledge, praying it's decently stable.

Birdie Six and Birdie Eight are waiting for them. Birdie Five has gone to direct the KND to their location; not that it'll be all that hard to spot. Fanny doubts it'll take long, as Numbuh 5 has mostly likely left someone waiting above the desert in case of just this. It feels like death has generously passed over them, as her earlier statement abut dying before light has been proven incorrect.

She knows she should be worried about Numbuh 5, anxious of her own failure, and guilty from the bad news that she will inevitably have to tell Rachel, but right now there's blood clinging to her ripped and charred cargo pants and she feels numb. She lets herself rest against the other boy's side, propping him up while also relinquishing the strain of her small weight. "Any other injuries?"

"Nothing serious, ma'am." Birdie Two promises, but his voice is jumpy. "Just rest for now, okay?"

"I won't be going nowhere anytime soon." She says, although it hurts to admit. "He needs someone trained to keep his butt alive."

He nodded and moved away to talk to Birdie Three. She could almost swear she could stand and walk normally. It's hard to imagine anything wrong.

"Numbuh 86?" Birdie Four rasps. "Your foot."

"Just... focus on yer healin', lad. I'll be fine." She replies, but looks away. Her mind was whirling with the absurd cruelty with which such a crude and useless attack had been perpetrated.

Birdie Four nods, eyes sliding shut. "Zero help us."


	6. Phone Calls

The first thing they do is give her the strongest bottle of root beer she's ever tasted. Fanny's had to distill it in her kitchen and chug starglimmer, the disgusting backwater version thereof, and she still handled it better than this nameless bottle of brown liquid. Her tongue feels like it'll sizzle into nothing and the rest of her got hit with a car on the way.

"Did ya' juice the root?" She roars, chucking the bottle at her doctor. "Actually, I think the root would be weaker than this crud. Ya' quacks tryin' to _kill_ me?"

"It was made scientifically, ma'am."

"Yeah? Well, I can believe it. Even the likes'a Hoagie Gilligan couldn't hold that _spew_ down."

"Would you prefer the root, ma'am?"

"I'd _prefer_ a capable medic." She returned. Fanny is sitting on your typical patient's bed, only this one happens to be in space. The shrimp trying to kill her is about half a minute tall and a second wide, with maybe two days out of med class under his belt. "See ta' my injured teammate."

"But-" He starts, then sees the look she gives him and leaves. Fanny holds onto the wall to gimp over and retrieve the bottle, downing it in one gulp. She starts feeling drunk soon after, but it's that half-sober depression kind of drunk. It's a pathetic attempt at getting around painkillers.

A knock on the door makes her sit up. "If yer here to try and kill me with bad bubbles I suggest ya' screw off."

"Actually," a voice conversationally replies, "I was considering kicking your ass for being a big dummy, but I suppose poison'll do."

There's only one dame in the entire Kids Next Door who'd actually curse at her. "Kuki, dear? Come to see me on my death bed, have ya'?" Numbuh 3 slips inside with a cart of medical doo-dads Fanny knows the names of but has never had to use in the years since she quit med. "Zero save me, I'm really dyin'."

"These were for the _other_ patient." She plucked her gloves off. "He's okay, by the way, so you can stop refusing treatment."

"Idiot got stabbed in the gut. That's not okay." Nevertheless she relaxed her shoulders, gingerly sticking out her leg for consideration.

"True, but he'll live, so quit beating yourself up over it." She sat down beside her and took her ankle in a firm grip. "That's Numbuh 5's job."

"Ya' know me so well, doll." She fluttered her eyelashes and Kuki laughed. "How're things going?"

"I'm staring down the dismembered foot of my friend. I'll let you decide." A finger gently ran across the heat-sealed skin. "You wanna hear what my stupid boyfriend did?"

"You know I love to hate on that boy. What'd Beetles do this time?"

"Took on Father with no backup. He's lucky he got away with a burn and a cut on the cheek. Both are scarring, by the way. Thank Zero for giving him a visible blow to the pride."

"Does he _want_ to get us all killed?" Fanny yelps, digging her fingers into the sides of the bed with shock. "The info Numbuh 4 has in his brain can make or break us!" She fell back with a sigh, thoroughly disgusted with the current management. "And people thought _I_ was a terrible Global Tactical Officer."

"Yeah, well," Kuki's face softened. "He's trying his best. I'm going to sanitize and wrap this. It's a shame you couldn't grab the foot; we might've saved it."

"It was the middle of the Sahara, darlin'. Not to mention it got wrecked by a boulder."

She accepted her response with a nod. "How are you going to explain this to Mr. Boss?"

Fanny bit her lip. The thought hadn't occurred to her. "Daddy'll understand." She responded slowly. "He knows I'm under oath not ta' speak about it."

"I'm less worried 'bout explanations and more worried about the fact that he'll tear the KND apart from the ground up."

"Is this a not-so-subtle way for you to tell me I need to give him a call? Careful with those bandages; I'm a wee bit sore."

"Yes, actually, it is. And we both know I've got the fingers of a surgeon."

Fanny scanned her appreciatively. She's personally slight in weight and size from genetics and a higher level of reliance on tech to do her job, but Kuki grew up in the hard-knock life of a ground operative. The best way to describe her is _robust_. Only a tad taller and broad, with a stocky form. Everything about her protrudes like fat, but it's mostly muscle, save for the belly and a bit on her arms and thighs.

She wasn't built like those ladies you see in flexing contests; she was built like the heavy hitters in strongwoman contests. Fanny is completely certain she could bench-press a girl as tiny as herself, but her fingers are feather-light and dainty. "Not personally, though I'd love ta' find out if ya' ever get around to dumping that idjit."

"Alright, enough joke-flirting. It's work time now."

Fanny salutes and lays back. She focuses on the churning in her gut rather than the fact that one of her pals is currently handling the ankle of the foot she had to cut off.

* * *

She drifts in and out of sleep before giving up and reaching for her crutches. Normally they'd just implant another one- they have the technology- but the layer of burnt is an issue in the matter. For now, it's best to let it heal and see what happens.

Someone tries to stop her when she exits the room, but she sends him scurrying away with a well-aimed swing. The wall of clocks they keep in the med bay tell her it's almost midnight and it's Friday. It's fairly likely her father is up at this hour, fiddling with last-minute documents for his job. As good a time as ever to find out your daughter got her butt kicked by a rock.

From the med bay she heads toward the cargo hull. Fanny's phone has been given its' own satellite line for the sake of not taking every opportunity to spy on her family that some operatives would obviously use rather than be in sync with the Kids Next Door one. Apparently it has shoddy service anyway.

She goes to her contacts. She'd left the iphone at home, so Fanny was stuck painstakingly messing with an old flip-up. Her fingers had always been just a smidge too thick for the keys from years of callouses and such. She propped herself up on a box of weapon parts and hits send.

Her father is a snip with the phone, as always. It barely gets four rings. "I don't want any! 'Sides, ain't it a bit late for you soul-sucking marketers to try and feed on the gullible society we-"

"Hi, daddy."

There's a long pause.

"Fanny?" He blurts out incredulously. "I thought you were off doin' your thing?"

"I was." She agreed. "Things just got a bit dicey, s'all."

"I don't like that tone."

"You took yer heart medication, right? You haven't been skimping out on me now that I'm gone?"

"Fanny, don't stall. Tact takes effect away from your statement. That's why I always explain my evil plans in straight, simple language."

"If that's what you'd prefer- my foot's gone."

Time ticks by in silence. Fanny hears her father get up, walk somewhere, and sit down. Leather and springs scream under his weight.

"Dad?" She asks, voice only just above a squeak.

"Who. Did. This."

"Nobody, dad. Really."

"I know you're lying to me, Fanny." He hisses, voice quiet and strained. "I'll get the shotgun. Forget little kid super weapons."

"I'm under oath." She forced herself not to flinch at the threat. Years of training have given her the edge she needs, but it's painful to listen to his voice wrench with grief and not be able to react to it. "What I _can_ tell you is that no person did this. They'd be six foot under if they had. My secondary computer got smashed, by the way. Sorry."

"God _damnit_ , Fanny, you know I don't care about some stupid laptop!"

Fanny seems to have not quite grown numb to her own interrogation tactics. She feels panic swell in her chest as the curse leaves her father's lips, a renewed urgency to placate him. "I'm in pretty good shape. One of my other men is... _bad_. We'll probably have to let him go. It's a shame- he was a decent operative. Anyway, I'll be home by the end of the week and-"

"Come home now." He urged suddenly, and it occurred to her just how scared he was. Despite his grumblings, he'd never asked her to leave her post before now. "You need _real_ medical attention- not the fake 'rub some dirt in it' help you get there."

"What? No!" Terror flooded her at the thought of being at the mercy of an adult in fancy gloves. Fanny knows what happens to the kids who get the wrong doc, and it's never pretty. She lowered her voice. "Ye know it's against the rules to seek out adult help _willingly_."

"So is being a teen operative, and you're doing just fine." Mr. Boss harrumphed. He sounded more pleading now. "Fanny, I need to know you're safe."

"Vaccinations and yearly check-ups. That's it." She replied stubbornly. Loyalty seemed more important than personal health at this point. "It's against the code."

"The 'code' won't keep you alive-"

"It has so far and will continue ta' do so!" She snapped, yanking on her hair a bit. Fanny forced her voice to soften. "Daddy, I _know_ yer just lookin' out fer me, but I'm gonna be just fine. Trust me."

"I _do_ trust you, sweetie. I always have. It's your buddies I worry about."

Fanny gave him a final reassurance and cut the call. Her mind swirled with indecision as she stared at the quickly darkening screen. In the bleak quiet of the cargo hull, no operative would ever catch hold of the words she wanted to say, but she wasn't the only one to have enemies.

She typed in the numbers she knew by heart from silent repetition and waited. There was no ring.

"Fanny?"

"Hey, darlin'. Sorry 'bout calling ya' this late, but I needed yer help real quick. You don't happen to be near a computer, do ya'?"

"Why?"

The lack of denial was all the answer she needed. "I've been gettin' messages from a source through my Universe of Bullets account. S'why I've been playing so many matches on Fridays lately.

Rachel's voice is tart with hurt. "You never told me that."

"I didn't want word to spread an' have 'em chicken out on me." Rachel would never tell, of course, but that doesn't mean someone couldn't overhear. "Even the slightest whisper coulda done it. Log in and check my inbox for me, please?"

She hears keys clacking, then the click of a mouse. "There's over a hundred messages here, Fanny." She reports, sounding mildly surprised. "How long has this been going on?"

"'Bout a month. Maybe two." She lied, praying she'd convince herself to believe it. "Is there anything new?"

"Yeah, you've got something from... 'MadeAMistake'? What kind of username _is_ that?"

"To be fair, mine _is_ ReconIsRecom."

"That's a joke about what you do. This is more of a statement." Scrolling. "They only have enough hours on the game to just barely be considered a player. And they've never won a single match."

"They could certainly use my expertise, yes. Anything new?"

"Just one message. I..." She took in a breath. "Fanny, this is a _threat_."

"Well, don't leave me hangin'. What does it say?"

"You're calm about this." Rachel observed. Fanny could imagine the scowl on her face. "This isn't the first time, then. It says, 'Not what I expected, but that's what happens when you mess with the innocent.' What happened?"

"I'll tell ya' later. It's... complicated."

"Should I reply?"

"I'll do it myself later. Thanks fer doin' this for me." She sucked in a fortifying breath. She's wasted too much of Rachel's time. "I'll click off now."

"Fanny, I want an explanation-"

"It'd take too much time. We'll just have to wait until the next time we meet. Thanks again."

Knowing full well exactly who she's pissing off, it takes a great amount of courage and audacity to hit the end call button. Thankfully, Fanny has both.


	7. Home Again

Of all the operatives to escort her home, it's Numbuh 4 himself who asks. That is, if you count him showing up in her hospital room with her temporary peg leg in hand as a request and not a hostage situation.

He holds the door open for her and makes sure the halls are clear, glaring at anyone who dares breathe in their direction. He doesn't respond to her complaint that, out of all the things they could've given her, they gave her a rusty wooden leg that looked straight from Stickybeard's ship, but Fanny catches him desperately trying to claw a faded stain off it.

It'd be hypocritical of her to say she hated Beetles for taking her job (she'd hated him long before then), but Fanny feels the authority and respect he possesses and it's like driving by your childhood playground. Longing and jealousy tugged at her stomach as she pitifully hobbled behind him, crutches digging into her armpits.

She understands why Numbuh 5 gave him the position she did. Numbuh 4 is testy and short-tempered, quicker to use violence than speech. But, then, couldn't the same be said of her? It's much deeper than all that.

Numbuh 4 isn't afraid to speak against his higher-ups. His loyalty was firmly with the Kids Next Door, and, more importantly, Abby herself, but that wouldn't stop him from getting involved if he felt things were going awry. He'd keep Numbuh 5 on course and on her toes, always considering exactly who her actions were serving to protect; her butt, or the butts of her operatives. Most importantly, he had absolutely no connection with teenagers and adults, therefore making up for her more suspect soft spots.

No, Fanny is fully aware of how all this works. It was why Rachel had appointed her when Numbuh 1 failed- as he always did. She'd needed an operative with a spine to them, and even operatives she's yet to meet have heard of her sour disposition and tongue. Fanny has no respect for those who follow without complaint, and that's what endeared her to Rachel as her Global Tactical Officer. That, and the fact that they had been friends for quite a while by that point; she was one of the few who remembered her days as a medic, before the war against adult tyranny changed her, and vice versa.

None of that doesn't mean she has to reserve from petty irritation, however, and she makes sure to swat him in the ankle with her crutch as she passes. Beetles doesn't even grunt.

Fanny is never introduced to the operative who pilots the ship back to Earth, but that doesn't really upset her. Numbuh 4 hunkers in across from her and they talk. Mostly about the state of the Kids Next Door, and how Numbuh 5 needs both of them by her side right now. For someone who does, apparently, she's certainly never shown it.

A few fumbles later they come to a sort of agreement; the kind where you both agree to never tell anyone such words ever left their lips. Fanny keeps the words close to her heart, though she wishes they had been said by someone she's on more friendly terms with. She is happy to report, however, that a scar now bit into his left cheek, beside his mouth, and when he lifts his arms to gesture at something she catches a burn on his wrist.

Maybe she's not the only one around here with a bruised sense of pride, then. Good.

Seeing her father again- and, likewise, having him see her like this- is an even greater strain on her composure, but Fanny keeps a stiff upper lip as he draws her into a hug. Shaunie and Paddy are close behind, though more reluctantly. There are vague threats and maybe tears, but Fanny will never tell.

"It's _fine_ , dad, really." She promised, tapping her ankle with the crutch. "The Kids Next Door could give me a brand new one and ya'd never know the difference."

"Then why didn't they?" He asks. He sounds like he doesn't believe her claims, which is fair. Adults always seem to think that kids only have dirt and band-aids to work with. They tend to forget that necessity is innovation, and the KND loses enough operatives per year without being terrible at healing.

"The burn is a bit of an issue," she admitted, ignoring the vivid memory of the red laser. "I ain't ready to get more of me hucked off. This'll do fer now."

Fanny ices the wound and eats dinner, then heads up to her room. Bless her father for realizing that cramming her into a small area will only make things worse, and bless her stupid brothers for leaving an ice chest of cola on her bed. It's much more potent than the watered-down root beer she keeps in the fridge, with none of that cherry stuff to dilute it. She takes a bottle and pulls herself onto her office chair.

Fanny pulls up her Universe of Bullets account, slipping the familiar weight of her headset on. Fanny takes a second to turn off gore- she won't be willing to deal with that for a while- and checks to see if anyone she knows is playing. Numbuh 10 is hosting a small, private party. She sends a request and is immediately pulled into the thick of it.

"Back so soon, Decon?" She hears one of them say.

"Yup." Fanny adjusted her sound settings- after the silence of the Sahara and the suffocation of med bay, her ears aren't up to loud noises quite yet. "Got me a bottle of coke fer my worries and sand in my boots."

"Ma'am?"

"Hello, Darcie. Ya' been practicing?"

"Mhm." Darcie sounds as shy as she did last time they played together. "Are you okay?"

"I heard things got rough over there," Numbuh 10 adds.

Fanny forces her tone to stay light. "'M fine, gals. Ye should see the other guy. Bit'a rubble ain't gonna stop me."

"And your foot?"

Sighing in frustration, Fanny twisted off the cap and downed half her soda. This is no time to be sober. The sting hurts, but Zero if she doesn't need it. "We're soldiers. Kid _soldiers_. if ya' can't get back up offa somethin' like this, ya' shouldn't enlist in the first place."

That shuts them up, for a bit. Fanny gets killed- on purpose, thank you very much- and scrolls over to her message box, another swig of cola in her gullet. Her vision is blurring, but she's not drunk. She's not crying, either. She just is.

Fanny hovers over the delete button for _MadeAMistake_ 's messages. Honestly, there's no point in keeping them. This lead is closed. Best to burn the past and move on to a more detailed, better executed revenge scheme. Fanny'll have plenty of time to consider her options while she heals.

She clicks the link one last time. Just to see if there was any messages she missed while she was away. The warning, her taunting, the threat- it's all there. How stupid she sounds, now.

The very button contained a note Fanny had never seen before. It's not from _MadeAMistake_.

_ReconIsRecom: Your name is right_   
_ReconIsRecom: Good luck._

Saturday, 7:00 A.M. When she was still in the med ward.

Fanny blinks at it owlishly. That was a threat if she ever read one, and it wasn't from her. It wasn't complicated to figure out who must've sent it, but it seemed so illogical. Sending the message would've put a blip on the map as to where the runaway was. Why make such a misstep?

Fanny clicks the trash can and watches as the messages slowly delete themselves. Then, she clicked the block button.

Done.

That's when Fanny realizes her headphones have been taken off. Too late to stop herself, she tenses.

A hand immediately clamped across her mouth. Fanny doesn't scream- no one would hear- throwing her elbow back. It connected, though she didn't know with what. She bit down hard on the webbing between thumb and index finger. The office chair got whirled around, but Fanny slammed her foot on the side of her desk, refusing to go all the way around. She throws a drunken punch, only to have it be caught at the wrist halfway.

"Fanny, stop."

She froze. "Rachel?'

The blonde girl glared down at her. She was in her comfort clothes; a space-themed sleeveless sweater and black pants.

"Yes, Rachel." She rumbled. "Are you calm now?"

Fanny doesn't bother answering that. "Don't sneak up on me! How long have you been here?" As an operative with roots in the stealth division, it was more than possible she'd spent days hunkering down in some dark room in her corner, just waiting. It was her job.

"Long enough." Rachel dangled Fanny's headset on her index finger, frowning. "Sign off. We need to talk."

The red-head sighed, turning back to her computer. Fanny put her headset back on, the audio picture of innocence. "Sorry 'bout that. Daddy came in unexpectedly."

"Daddy?" She hears one ask.

"Unexpectedly?" Another responds. Fanny wonders which one sounds more ludicrous- her show of familial love or her being taken by surprise. She has a legacy of being in-control of her body, able to taper down almost all its' natural reactions, and that admission had probably tarnished that. Phooey.

"It's late 'ere, girls, and I don't think I'm ready fer an all-nighter. Honestly, I just wanna get so buzzed ya' couldn't wake me up with a S.P.L.A.N.K.E.R. Night."

"Night, 86. Get back on soon."

"Get _better_ soon."

"Say hi to Numbuh 362 for me- y'know, if you really _do_ see her."

"We'll make you a battle axe to help make up for that new bump. That's a lesbian symbol, right? It's fitting."

Fanny logged out of her account, then her computer. The warm blue glow gave an eerie lighting to the rest of the room. She set the headset on her charger, then drained her cola for courage, chucking the empty bottle at her trash bin.

"Shouldn't ya' be somewhere safe?" She probed finally.

"This place is fine, for now." Rachel shrugged. Fanny kept staring at her computer screen. "What the heck _was_ that, Fanny?"

"Confidential information."

"Threats, you mean. Does Numbuh 5 know about this?"

"Aye." No need to tell her that she's only found out recently. "I assume you read all of 'em?"

"Every. Single. One." Fanny felt her hands descend on her office chair and allowed herself to be spun around this time. "Why didn't you _tell_ me?"

Her brow is drawn, lip quivering between a frown and a snarl. She didn't know if the ex-supreme leader realized she was doing it or not, but Rachel used her height to her advantage, squaring her shoulders and leaning over at just the right angle to be suffocating yet out of reach. Rachel is an intimidating woman, Fanny realizes. This is not news to her.

"Wasn't nothin' to tell."

"There was plenty." She returned, voice flat. Her tone softened. "You never told me you were gunning for those scientists."

"Didn't wanna get yer hopes up."

"How? Fanny, that's all in the-"

"I swear, if you say it's all in the past-" Fanny screeched, the soda making her gut cramp even as her blood boils. She stood up to yell into her face, to point a finger and drive it home, but she pitches forward instead. Rachel grabs her upper arms and stabilizes her.

Right. No crutches.

"Too much cola?" She asks, something snarky on the very tip of her tongue. This is terrible timing to be confronting her on her soda addiction.

"Too little foot, I'd say."

Rachel stills beneath her. Blue eyes dart to the crutches on the wall. "What happened?"

"Ah, shut up." Fanny windmilled into the wall, grabbed her crutches, and hobbled over to the chest. "Not enough soda in me fer this."

"Fanny?" She hears the woman whisper, reconsidering her earlier aggression. "What did they do to you?"

Fanny flopped onto her bed, irritably throwing the crutches aside. "You didn't notice?"

"I wasn't looking." She responded. Rachel hesitantly joined her on the bed, all her earlier anger gone with shock. "Why keep the stump?"

"Ulgh. I've been saying why fer _days_ now."

"Well, I wasn't there, then. Enlighten me."

Fanny explains as she digs through her ice chest, handing the woman a bottle before taking one herself. "I'm stuck on house arrest 'till I heal."

"An order you don't plan on following."

"Dunno yet. I haven't decided." She spun the cap off her bottle with a grimace. "This lead's gone nowhere. Maybe a break'll do me some good."

"I'd agree with you, if I didn't know you. You _obsess_ over things, Fanny. You don't know how to let them go."

Fanny trailed her tongue across the bumpy ring around the inner lid of her soda, grip on her neck so fierce it was almost steel. "I'm not like you, Rachel. I've never been a spy or Supreme Leader before. I've never had to _forgive_ like you. Decommissionin' is all about catchin' traitors and gettin' revenge. I'm always gonna have somethin' or someone to resent. S'just the nature of the duty."

"You're more than just a Decommissioning officer, you know."

"And _yer_ more than just a woman with a bounty on her head. So what? That doesn't change anything. Doesn't make those parts of ourselves any less _there_."

"You never told me you were a philosophical drunk."

"I'm tryin' not to hurl from the carbonation. This is a good way ta' ignore it."

"You can usually handle more than this."

"I've been too busy ta' drink heavily lately. Gotta re-familiarize myself."

"Ah."

Rachel finally cracked open her bottle. She didn't seem particularly interested in the dark liquid. "I tracked the signal."

Fanny does the right thing and chokes on her soda instead of spitting it out, which would have been a waste. "You waited to do that, didn't you?"

Rachel smiles. "I wanted to get the best reaction out of you."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rachel please. Don't sneak into the bedroom of your girlfriend just to yell at her. This could've been saved 'till next month.


	8. Squaring Things Away

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gotta air out the room a bit

Her stump starts to heal quickly, mostly due to the help of the KND med unit. It's still pretty bad, but Fanny can hook it into the peg leg (Zero, it's so stupid-looking, an operative with a peg leg) without any real pain. She'd scraped any sticky remains off it beforehand, or perhaps her father had, she isn't really sure; Fanny's flying high for most of this time, chugging soda can after soda can.

Rachel has been... around. Always in the corner of her eye, always snooping around. Fanny knows she's waiting for her to heal, but it's degrading. Her girlfriend shouldn't have to stand by while she drinks and plays Universe of Bullets with the volume and gore off. She should be off doing whatever it is ladies on the run do.

She finally comes for her five weeks later. Almost a month of sitting on her hands and smashing cans against her head. Fanny's grateful, to climb onto her personal flyer (a makeshift one, from the looks of it) and go.

* * *

"You sure you're up to following me?" Rachel asks halfway there. It's the first thing she's said since takeoff.

"I didn't magically become claustrophobic overnight, sir."

"That's not my concern."

Fanny shrugs. She's pleased by her worry, but it's mostly unwarranted. "I lost me first operative in the PreCalc room, but I still go in there every other day. Been wedgied to the banister in the gym and run jus' fine. Shoved into a locker for two days near the chem lab- doesn't bother me to go near it. _Places_ don't set me off- people and smells _do_."

They're quiet, for a moment.

"I never knew you got wedgied to the banister."

"Wasn't my finest moment. If anybody asks, I tend ta' deny it."

"Was the highschooler okay?"

"Never heard from 'im again. I have no idea who got to 'em- my dad, or my squad. I suppose it doesn't really matter."

"They left you food in that locker, right?"

"I had a lunch packed. Really, I only stayed so long because I wanted the idjit to return, so I could pound 'em."

"Did they?"

"No."

"That's a shame."

"No kiddin'. Biggest waste of my time since I went to medic training."

Rachel snorts. Fanny wants to tell her it's cute when she does that, but the girl prefers constructive criticism over mindless observations.

They came upon the rock fall in the early afternoon. Deep down, Fanny is surprised it hasn't been moved. Miles of sand surround it, true, but the KND is always prudent with things like these. Better to get rid of it than have some adults stumble on it. Either Numbuh 5 is slipping, or they're still scanning it for clues. If so, then there's a high chance the Supreme Leader is working on a lead to present to her as a gift, a little apology. If only she knew what Fanny was up to right now.

Rachel lands the ship, hits the cloaking button, and climbs out. Fanny followed. From there, they hiked up the unstable structure, keeping a close eye on each other in case they should slip. They didn't.

Fanny attached her S.M.E.L.L.M.E.T. with shaking fingers. It was too late to turn back now. She gestured for Rachel to follower her and slipped inside.

It was bigger than she remembered. Fanny was forced to crawl, just as she had before, but the dark walls no longer closed her in. She chalked that up to the situation no longer being as dire- no one was counting on her to survive, so the world was less large on her shoulders.

No, wait. The hole really was just bigger. It went deeper, too.

Sensing her shock, Rachel tapped her ankle. Fanny shook her head to clear it and kept going. The passage jerked up at an awkward angle where the old and new collided- and she climbed it. A bright blue light bathed the place in a warm glow. Fanny squinted and slipped inside.

It was a small cavern, bright. Some sort of anti-gravity machine was in place, lifting the rubble up and around into a bubble. It didn't seem to effect humans, as they moved around just fine. In the very center, perfectly untouched, sat the sphere.

Her hands clenched into fists. Fanny took in a ragged breath, moving closer almost subconsciously. Rachel stopped her, shook her head, and went by herself.

The spy slowly went around the machine. She found a panel that Fanny couldn't see, typing in what she suspected was a master code. The sphere opened almost innocuously.

The chair was empty. A red box flashed on the chair, the walls, what she assumed was the floor and ceilings. _Auto-pilot engaged._

Fanny's heart stopped.

She whipped around and plunged back into the cavern, desperately grasping at the walls. She almost fell into that hole, that hole that curved down into the bowls of a machine that took Birdie Four from the KND and her foot from her. Thankfully, her body is working better than her mind, and she clutches at the top without any thought, pulling herself up.

Birdie Four had a name. Not anymore. Didn't have much of a natural gut, either. Fanny reached the surface, removed her S.M.E.L.L.M.E.T., and proceeded to throw up over the very edge. She hoped she didn't hit Rachel's ship.

"Fanny?" Rachel softly put a hand on her shoulder. Fanny didn't know how long had passed since her frantic scramble.

She didn't raise her head. "There was never anythin' in there."

"No."

"I lost me foot fer nothin'."

"I wouldn't say that. You got valuable information for the KND. Numbuh 5 can make some great weapons with tech like this."

"I destroyed my team. Fer a thing that never even existed."

"We never had to come here."

"I needed ta' know."

Rachel sat down at the very edge, legs dangling. She patted the ground, and Fanny slumped.

"If I told you I knew where Numbuh 1 is, how would you feel?"

Fanny sucked in a deep breath. Zero, she needed a drink. "I'd first ask you why that's important."

"It's connected."

"I'd probably slug a wall. Then slug some root beer and demand to know some more."

"I can't tell you more. I'm sorry. What I _can_ tell you is that he's running with the same band that did this to you. So, yeah."

"Nigel's an idiot, but he's no sadist."

Rachel shrugged, biting her lip. Fanny had never seen the woman look so uncertain before. "I just don't know, Fanny. It's been years since we've seen him. People change."

 _Not guys like Nigel Uno_ , she thought. Her head was starting to pound; she'd been hitting the bottle a bit too hard, and she was feeling the withdrawals worse than ever. Fanny had never considered him dead, but she also never thought she'd see or hear anything about his whereabouts again. People like Nigel... they find a way, you know? Their little niches, far away from places like this. Good riddance. It gave people like Fanny more room to work.

"They don't like adults, and they don't like adult sympathizers," she went on in a low voice. "So you can imagine how they feel about Numbuh 5's reforms."

"They tried ta' kill me."

"You're a teenager. They would've seen it as a mercy kill."

They saw that as _mercy_? "That's disgustin'."

"I agree. MadeAMistake is probably an informant."

"I want her in the hospital."

Rachel grimly stood up, pulling her to her feet. She didn't seem perturbed by her words. "Then let's go get them. _Before_ they catch on and skedaddle."

"Skedaddle is not a word."

"It is now. Deal with it."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mostly a filler chapter, I guess. Looks like this baby'll be ten chapters long by the end of it! Which means, of course, that it's mostly over.
> 
> -Mandaree1


	9. Little Cabin in the Foothills

They park the flyer between some rocks a few miles away from the destination, determined to have the advantage. Rachel leads the hike, mostly because Fanny is still new to the peg leg, pushing through heavy bushes and ferns. The trail was far too easy to be viable; at least, that was the kind of thinking that drove the two teens to make the journey through the woods, slipping and sliding when they reached a particularly smooth portion of grass. The ache in their ankles reaffirmed that they were making ground upwards.

"This reminds me of our first mission together," Rachel said, not sounding very happy about it. "When we got stranded on that island- back during the Chicken Pox Plague."

"I remember." They were both fresh out of boot camp, back then; Rachel had been a regular foot soldier, and she a medic. Funny how times change. "I thought we were doomed fer sure."

"It certainly was... exciting." The blonde girl ducked under a branch. Fanny was short enough she didn't have to. "I seem to recall you breaking a boy's nose."

"With great enjoyment, I assure you." Fanny shook off old feelings of anxiety. One of the nice things about being a member of the Decommissioning Squad is that it's given her better 20/20 sight- or perhaps it's more accurate to say that it's given her plenty of long nights to think about things- but there were certain things Fanny just wasn't in the mood to ponder. "Yer in a shockingly nostalgic mood, sir."

Rachel shrugged. Fanny noticed she was keeping her eyes straight ahead. "It's not often we get this much time to ourselves."

"We've made sure of that, haven't we, sir?"

"What did I say about calling me sir?"

"Force of habit." Fanny's chin pressed sheepishly against her chest, looking at her from under her eyelashes. It's an affectionate but calculating look. "'Sides, you've earned that respect and more."

"I find it ironic that you can be so polite to me, yet scream profanities at any boy you see," Rachel quipped, and they left it at that. They cut up a small ridge, ducking behind rocks. Fanny's peg leg skidded on the stones. She winced at the sound (and the feeling; it wasn't exactly comfortable), sucking in a breath through her teeth.

Somewhere in the distance a weapon fired. Rachel glanced at Fanny over her shoulder, receiving a nod. They knew a warning shot when they heard it.

Over the next ridge, between some trees, sat a log cabin. It wasn't the pretty kind of log cabin, either; it was the ugly, beaten down, most likely infested with termites kind of cabin, complete with a tin roof that was peeling off at the edges. The lawn around the cabin was well-tended to, however, barring a patch of soil left empty in front of the front door, like someone had given a half-hearted attempt to plant something there only a few days ago. The only thing that made any noise was the cicadas, whom continued screeching their happy little tune of death without a single damn given.

Fanny grabbed Rachel's arm. "I'm goin' on ahead."

"Are you sure that's wise?" she asked, raising an eyebrow.

"No," she returned bluntly, "but I'm doin' it anyway."

Rachel nodded and shifted closer to the stone ridge, giving Fanny more room to crawl. The Decommissioning agent focused on putting one hand in front of the other, ignoring the crackling of wood scratching against rock. She found a safe place to climb down and started the trek, lips clenched shut. It'd been a long time since she'd done something quite this dangerous. At least, a long time since she'd done so without a D.O.H.-D.O.H.

The sound of a weapon going off only momentarily pre-dates a stinging pain in Fanny's shoulder. The shock of it has her frantically clinging to the rock face, ever so close to falling off. Sucking in a deep, calming breath, she brought a shaky hand over to check the damage. It won't scar, but lifting and shifting is going to hurt for a couple of weeks. Fanny picks a perfectly round stone out of the wound, eyes fluttering closed with a soft curse.

She's been punched, poked, prodded- and, yes, even shot at with various substances- but gravel projectiles are a new one.

The rest of the way down is tense, and not just because falling isn't much of an option. No more shots are fired until she touches the dirt, upon which some gravel finds its way into her foot. Fanny flinches, internally scolding herself for doing so. Spooking like a newbie on her first raid- bad impression to give. Fanny squared her admittedly tiny shoulders and marched over, gimping as little as she could manage.

Looking back with aforementioned 20/20 vision, perhaps this mission would be going a lot smoother if she'd brought a weapon.

Fanny took in a deep breath, steeled her form, and made a running start at the door, foot and shoulder burning. A war cry accompanied her as she rammed into the flimsy wood, cracking but not breaking it. The second try was a dud, as was the third, but by the fourth the old thing was practically crumbling. Fanny barely even got the chance to step over it before someone was aiming a blow to her head, which she dodged more out of habit than any actual thought.

The window beside them broke, Rachel falling to the wooden floor, rolling, and getting to her feet, tripping the assailant as she went. Fanny aimed a kick at her stomach, relishing in the 'oof' it brought out. It was far less than Birdie Four has suffered.

"I'd wondered," Fanny said as she hauled the girl to her feet, effectively pinning her to the wall opposite of them, "if it was you, Numbuh Rebecca. You were the only Sectuh A operative that never got found. The only one who was inta' that whole Splinter Cell thing." She shook her head bemusedly. "But I told meself 'nah, Fanny, the tech is too advanced, Numbuh Rebecca ain't got that kind of learnin' in her'. I guess this is what I get fer doubtin' my gut instinct."

Numbuh Rebecca was a far cry from the small Amish girl Fanny remembered her to be. Her brown hair was as neat and well-kept as ever, and her blouse had nary a stain on it. She only just came up to the crown of her head, with a mousy frame that made even Fanny seem physically intimidating. The scars on her hands the solidness in her shoulders reminded her a bit of herself, save for the hard glint in her eye. This wasn't your typical hatred. This was  _advanced_  hatred.

Rachel comes up on her right side, glaring down at her. "Where's your laptop?"

"Burned it," Numbuh Rebecca told her sharply. "You've got nothing on me."

Fanny slammed her against the wall with a growl. "I've got more than half a mind to get some of somethin' on  _me_. Do ya' even know what you've done, girl? The lives you've ruined?" She aimed a kick at the woman's ankle. "Ya owe me a  _foot_ , you lout!"

Numbuh Rebecca gave a savage shove, knocking their heads together. Fanny's grip only tightened. "I don't owe you anything, _teenager,_ " she hissed. "If I had my way, you'd be buried under that patch of dirt on the lawn. It's better than your kind deserve."

"My kind?" Fanny squinted at her. "We're only two months apart, ya' daft brat! I don't know what kind of buffoonery infected you with the belief that yer any better'n I am just 'cause yer killing kids while I'm Decommissioning teens, but it's-"

"I'm ending the last generation," Numbuh Rebecca corrected. She leaned back in the girl's grip, chin jutted defiantly. "We're the very last. Soon, it'll all be kids again, like it should be. They promised me."

"The world makes a lot of promises it can't keep, gal."

"Then it's a mighty good thing I ask for promises from things greater than the world."

"Get some rope," Fanny said. Rachel nodded and went about the cabin. It looked no better on the inside; ugly wooden furniture, empty cabinets, not a bite of food to be had. The only thing that glittered was the sink, which shone so brightly it looked a bit like someone had made a painting with the idea of making it the centerpiece. A makeshift shot gun was propped up by the door, no doubt loaded with gravel.

"I've got some in the ship," Rachel offered hesitantly. "I'd be back in under an hour if I ran."

She nodded mutely. A sense of unreality had begun to overtake her. Something about this made the whole situation hard to believe- that after months of taunts and an attempt on her life, here she was, Fanny Fulbright, ready to capture and turn in the rouge who had made all this possible.

"I made a  _mistake_." Numbuh Rebecca's voice jarred her to the present. The girl's face was torn between hatred and vulnerability. "I just wanted to watch TV, you know? I never knew it would lead to all of this."

Fanny cleared her throat. She found her eyes drawn to the musty couch. "Aye. It's funny how life plays out."

"Did I really kill someone?"

"No."

"That will change."

"You sound oddly calm 'bout all of this. It's reprehensible."

Numbuh Rebecca was putty in her arms, as if the very idea of staying strong had left her. Fanny was reminded of the old porcelain dolls she would see in the attic as a child, before the divorce had gotten her father around to destroying them. But even that comparison seemed incomplete- dolls didn't breathe or feel warm or shoot gravel at the person they'd entombed in stone. "We're parasites, Fulbright. The least we can do is help clean up our own mess."

"They've gotten pretty deep inta' ya, haven't they?" she commented.

She tilted her neck back so they were eye to eye. The overwhelming calmness set her teeth on edge. "I know your type, 86. I know your type, and I know you'll die before this is all said and done. But it won't be simple, or quick, or easy. No, you're too stubborn for that. You'll be on the very cusp of victory when it happens; and, when it does, it'll be _all your fault_." Numbuh Rebecca sucked in some spit. "And you're so short-sighted you'll think you were a hero for doing it."

Goosebumps rose on her arms as they engaged in what could best be described as a macabre staring contest, waiting to see who would look away first. They stopped when Rachel returned, hopping carefully over the remains of the door. Fanny stepped back for her to work, deeply unnerved. Her body was shaking from head to toe.

No one should ever have that kind of power of her. Especially not the person who'd done nothing but antagonize her. Yet somehow, MadeAMistake had wormed its way into her heart, quite possibly because she'd just threatened it with discontinuation.

* * *

They stay until the night is dark, staring up at the stars. A quick pinch to the proper area had left Numbuh Rebecca unconscious and tied up on the couch.

"Ye know what?" Fanny pulled her leg under her, letting it rest on its side. "This wasn't nearly as satisfyin' as I'd hoped it'd be."

"Was it still as necessary?"

"Absolutely."

"You look pale."

"I'm a ginger, darlin'." Fanny caught the look Rachel was giving her and sighed. "Do ya'... do ya' really think she believed all that crap she was spewin'?"

"I'm sure she did." Rachel shrugged. "People can convince themselves of most anything if they've got the time to do it."

"That's scary. And terrible."

"Eeyup." She popped the p with vigor.

The redhead tipped her head back, watching a shooting star streak across the horizon. They aren't nearly as amazing as they're made out to be. Then again, nothing will ever be more dear to her than the Moonbase. "What if she's right, though? What if there  _is_  somethin' coming to wipe out the oldies?"

"Oh, there is," Rachel affirmed, voice hushed. "Numbuh Rebecca worked for the same people Numbuh 1 does."

"Classified information, I'm sure?"

"Just a hunch," she responded. "Some people don't take to ageing well. Others try to kill the world for making them age. I think it's just part of nature."

Fanny scoffed at herself, facepalming. "Numbuh 4 just told me the other day that Numbuh 5 needed me. I thought the dolt was tryin' to make me feel better."

"When has Wally _ever_  wanted to help you feel better?" Rachel chuckled dryly. She quickly grew serious again. "I don't know what's going to happen in the future, Fanny, but I do know that this was just the beginning. The whole plot was so mediocre and slapdash- nothing a real organization would come up with." She tapped the top of her shoes together. "This was just someone with a grudge."

"That mediocre and slapdash plan destroyed me foot and almost killed a man, thank you very much."

She nodded. "They tend to do that."

Fanny shoved her shoulder. "Go. I'll wait an hour, then call the Kids Next Door."

"Thank you," Rachel said, rolling over. She set a firm hand on Fanny's shoulder to still her, then pressed a gentle peck to her lips. "I know this hasn't been an easy time for you. And I hope I managed to help."

"Ya've done more'n I would've," Fanny admitted. "Maybe next time I'll get off me high horse long enough to tell you when I'm about to go on a high-stakes mission."

"You'd be sending me a message a month, then."

"You make that sound like that's a bad thing."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Only one more chapter, ya'll! =)
> 
> -Mandaree1


	10. We're Ending This Now

Darcie shows up on her doorstep one day, brandishing a prosthetic foot she and the other girls (the ones who had any idea what they're doing) had cobbled up as a sort of gift, explaining that it's repayment for all the lessons she's given over the years. Fanny isn't one for crying, but it's a blazing hot day outside, and dust was being kicked up from the cars, so it's acceptable that her eyes watered.

Fanny takes another week off. She would've taken longer, but one can only ignore a Supreme Leader's calls for so long before it brings trouble to her doorstep, and she wants to give trouble a break. At the very least, she wants to give it a breather.

The halls of the Moonbase are familiar and impersonal all at once; cold, bland metal walls and floors and ceilings that hadn't been properly repaired since the Moonbase was first built, long before she was ever born. Fanny ran her fingers down the old cracks and dents, lost in thought. Her new foot is a far cry better than that pirate wannabe thing she'd been forced to keep up, but it was heavy and awkward, giving her steps a bit of a drag.

It's amazing to think that there are adults who believe the moon to just be another rock.

Numbuh 4 is waiting for her, arms crossed, leaning against the door to the main viewing bay. He grabs her shoulder and yanks her inside, just barely dodging a knuckle sandwich on the way.

It's oddly empty inside the plexiglass bubble, save for the endless stars above and the Supreme Leader below. But it's not the scenery that's empty; it's the four walkways, complete with metal railing, which converge in the middle. Plush chairs with neck braces give daydreamers all the comforts they could possibly desire. It's a good place to wind down after a long day of paperwork, though Fanny didn't much use the place herself. Disrupted her image.

"This is a mighty silly place fer us to talk, don't you think?" Fanny asks, waving her arms around. "Ye'll get people talkin', emptying the whole place like this."

Numbuh 5 glanced at her. Shrugged. "Numbuh 5  _wants_  people to talk. Giving kids the notion that I'm free and open helps them feel better about having a teenager for a leader." She spun around so they were face to face and leaned on the center railing. "Now, you're gonna tell me what all Rachel told you."

"You have no proof I've been collaborating with Numbuh 362, sir."

"Fanny," Abby says dryly. "What kinda fool you take me for?"

"I don't, sir."

"Then don't pretend that the innocent act is gonna get you anywhere, girl.  _Everybody_  knows you've been with Rachel. How else would you get to Numbuh Rebecca in the first place?"

Fanny crossed her arms, a bit miffed. "How do ya' know I didn't jus' find her myself?"

"After four years?" She shook her head. "Too unlikely."

"Just get  _on_  with it already, Fulbright!" Numbuh 4 exploded from behind her, rankling her one remaining nerve. "We don't got the time to play these stupid games!"

"Numbuh 4!" Abby glares at him, and Wally reluctantly backs down. Her face softens as she takes in the short girl. "Let's sit, okay? It'll be more comfy."

Fanny begrudgingly lets the woman lead her over to the chairs. They sit down, knee to knee. Abby is a good head taller than her, so she has to tip her head back a little so they can look each other in the eye. As nice as being tiny can be, for crawling into hiding spots and ducking between things, she found herself wishing she was even a little bit taller.

She's never been one to go against orders, at least when it suits her, so she tells Numbuh 5 everything. It's not like she has much to lose right now.

Numbuh 5 listens, blank-faced, until she's done. "Girl, you're in deep, you know that?"

"Aye, I know."

"The things you know could easily get you into big trouble someday."

"All due respect, sir, I'm not missin' my foot on accident."

She patted her on the arm. "Walk with me."

Fanny gave her a blank look. "Didja really just sit me down to get up again?"

The older operative flashed her a small smile. "It'll help you get used to that new foot."

* * *

Abby's arm rested firmly around Fanny's shoulders as they descended deeper and deeper into the Moonbase, into hallways old and rusted from disuse. KND history lectures told her this was the old Moonbase, back when kids were first reaching the moon- they'd simply kept building onto it as years went on, taping less safe places off.

"Numbuh 5 was scared," she admitted as they went. "When you disappeared."

"S'that so, sir?"

"I'd been meaning to talk to you. I didn't know if or when you'd return, either, and that's never a good feeling." The Supreme Leader paused. "If we're bein' honest, I shoulda clued you in on all of this ages ago."

Fanny didn't like her tone of voice. "Is this 'bout Numbuh 1?"

"It is  _absolutely_  about Numbuh 1."

They don't speak as Numbuh 5 wrenches open an older, rusty door, and they still don't speak as they slip into the dark room, that same door closing behind them. The only thing lit is the Earth, which is smack dab in the middle of the glass wall.

Fanny crosses her arms, this time defensively, ignoring a shudder. She's too old to be afraid of the dark. "Well, either yer tellin' me something _mighty_ important, or you've brought me down here to kill me."

Abby didn't seem to catch on to the joke. She grabbed both of Fanny's arms. "Listen to me, Fanny. There's some dangerous things coming." Her voice was desperate. Scared. "And I need people I can trust by my side. Can I trust you to put the Kids Next Door above everything else?"

They had a brief staring contest as she tried to decide if the teenager was joking or not. Fanny slowly nodded. "'Course ya' can, sir."

Numbuh 5 accepted this without argument. The redhead was under the sudden impression that she'd known that all along. "The night, when Numbuh 1 left..." she paused. Took in a deep breath. "We had somebody come to us. Said they were gon' do amazing things- cure adulthood, even. It sounded like the perfect place for Numbuh 1 to be. So we let him go."

"Cure it, ey?" she scoffed. "More like kill it, I suspect."

"We were kids, okay?" Abby snapped. "And we wanted to believe that somebody could find an out to Decommissioning. Not everybody; just one of us. And we wanted to believe that somebody was Nigel." Numbuh 5's shoulders hunched. "We shoulda realized... the boy's been through so much, it might be in his best interest to forget."

Fanny didn't have a response to that. What kind of response was there? An apology? This was years ago now, and the wounds were scabbed over. Saying sorry would only pluck them up again, like curious fingers or a really badly placed band-aid.

"They're called the Galactic Kids Next Door," Numbuh 5 whispered into the darkness. "And they're comin' for Earth."

 _"I know your type, 86. I know your type, and I know you'll die before this is all said and done. But it won't be simple, or quick, or easy. No, you're too stubborn for that. You'll be on the very cusp of victory when it happens; and, when it does, it'll be_  all your fault." Numbuh Rebecca's taunt suddenly felt more like a prophecy. _"And you're so short-sighted you'll think you were a hero for doing it."_

"This ain't gonna be easy, Fanny. But I need people I know I can trust to help the Kids Next Door through this."

Fanny shook over her unease and took a step forward, the bad foot dragging just the tiniest bit. She set a hand on Numbuh 5's shoulder. "I'm here for you, sir."

"Then we'd better get started."

Numbuh 5 tapped her hand with her pointer finger.

"It's time to Recommission everyone."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally done! Well, that only took me about a year to do.
> 
> This is kind of like the prequel to a Stop the GKND idea I've had in my mind a while. I dunno if I'll ever get to it or not- probably not- but I'm glad I got to this, at the very least!
> 
> -Mandaree1

**Author's Note:**

> Decon is Fanny's nickname as a Decommissioning soldier, whereas ReconIsRecom is her username. I just really like gamer Fanny, you know? =)


End file.
